strangers.”
My daughter is eleven years old. Her name is Ava. She has her mother’s eyes and my stubborn chin.
Seven weeks ago she called me whispering from the bathroom at 2 a.m.
“Daddy, he hit me again. Mom said I made him mad. Please come get me.”
I called the police. They sent a social worker. Melissa told the social worker that Ava has “behavioral continue reading …
